Five More Minutes
by Dianne
Summary: Like the ancient Egyptian kings, Voldemort was vain and demanded servitude even after death. Will he rule from the grave, the minds of those he tortured in life? Post GOF short fic.
1. Chapter 1

The sun cast a dim ray of hope through the stained glass widows of Hogwarts Hospital Wing. It was April first, and only now did the grounds of the half ruined castle see sunlight for the first time in over six months. Those who could walk, found themselves drawn to the windows, closing their eyes to feel the warmth on their faces. April Fool's Day had come, but everyone hoped beyond their wildest dreams that the first glimmer of change since the defeat of the Darkest Wizard would not be snatched cruelly from their awakening hearts.

The dead had been buried-, in all, twenty three students from various houses. Now, in the painful retrospect of the fierce bloody battle, it didn't matter in the slightest from which house they had come. They had all been students, young, vibrant and alive, and now they were gone. It didn't matter who had been Pureblood , Halfblood, or even Muggle -born. Voldemort hadn't cared in the slightest about that in the end.

Slytherin House had lost the most lives. Some said it was because they were on the wrong side, some said it was because they were cursed the most for having traded to the light. Although Dumbledore had asked that there be no tally kept as to the number of specifically categorized casualties, each student had done a personal mental tally. Predjudice, it seemed was hard to let go of, even in the wake of such a disaster. It was a coping mechanism many had come to rely on, especially if the tally one formulated put them on the perceived winning side. It would still take some time to make people realize that there was still fence mending to be done between the houses.

Justin Finch-Fletchley had been a Muggle-born. He'd known of Voldemort's revulsion of his kind. He had even studied it intensely in History class, learning that this hate had originated with Salazar Slytherin, and he'd lived with a certain amount of fear about his background ever since the threats waged against Muggle- borns in his second year. In the end, Justin had died as a result of that fear alone. When the battle had begun, Justin could remember the crimson writing on the wall as clearly as if it were yesterday, warning enemies of the heir to beware. As resolved as he'd been to stand and fight, in the end, Justin had run into the Forbidden Forest and was trampled accidentally by stampeding Centaurs, who were waging their own battle against Death Eaters who had entered their fiercely protected territory. The Centaurs had lamented killing the 'foal.' But in the end, it was Voldemort's fault-, something that the remaining staff members of the once proud school were still trying to come to terms with.

Panic had run deep among the students, particularly Mudbloods and Muggle- borns. Dennis and Colin Creevey, Muggle- borns from Gryffindor House, had managed to survive, but it had cost them their pride and dignity. They had been running blindly through the battle, and stumbled upon two dead Slytherins. Terrified of the implications of their heritage, the Creevey's had stolen the cloaks from Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini and were passed over by the ememy just long enough to get to the Room of Requirement where they could hide among friends, after having hidden among the dead.

It had been Harry's plan, made at the very last DA meeting, to have the room admit only those who were on the side of The Light. They were not the only ones in the Slytherin robes who were accepted into that room that fateful March night. Genuine Slytherin students also were given refuge there. It was amazing and disturbing to see a battle within a battle. When the Muggle-born Creeveys arrived wearing the Slytherin apparel, there was an outcry of infidelity from both Slytherins and Gryffindors alike. The Creeveys would later win back some respect-, at least from Gryffindor students, when it was learned that in their terrified flee for refuge, they had struck down at least two Death Eaters.

The investigation that had been conducted later had concluded that it was indeed the Creevey's wands that had performed the Unforgivable Curse-, Avada Kedavra. Their trial was pending, and the aging Headmaster was busy trying to plead their case, in a sea of other identical ones. It was up to the Ministry to either pardon their actions as part the War Measures Act, or sentence them to a cruel future or no future at all. In the meantime, they were free to enjoy, or worry for whatever time the law would determine at the end of the month, they had left.

In a lonely end of the hospital wing there stood an enclosed area. Grave looking faces came and went daily, but there was never any news on the boy who lay in there. Harry Potter was surrounded by Ron, Hermione, and his Ginny...that's what he had called her, on what he thought would be his last day on Earth. It had been two weeks. He had neither stirred nor woke. Any words that came from him, were too incoherent to make out, try as they might, with their ears leaning ever closer to strain to hear him. Madam Pomphrey had done her best, and as far as she could tell physically, Harry should be awake and very much alive.They all felt like they knew every pore in Harry's face, as they had stared at it, until they were almost cross- eyed with weariness. He looked almost like he was sculpted in fine porcelin-, pale, but not deathly so. It was so eerie to watch him like this day after day, as if he were in a deep sleep, his chest rising and falling almost imperceptibly. Any words that did come from him, were incoherent, and try as they might, leaning ever closer and straining their ears, they were unable to decipher his mumblings.

Hermione and Ron had both had a good cry, which even Ron hadn't tried to stifle. Only Ginny sat staunchly in her chair, stroking Harry's dark hair from his forehead, forbidding him to give up. She had only left to shower, and she slept with her head on Harry's bed each night. Even the usually strict Matron did not object. There was nothing else to be done for the boy. He had been seen by every healer that St Mungo's could spare, and there had been no visible results.

No one knew exactly what had happened to the boy who still lived after Voldemort had portkeyed Harry away from the support of his friends and his Ginny, or so the Dark Lord had erroneously thought. Voldemort's body had been found across the lake where it presumably had fallen at the hands of Harry, fulfilling the deadly prophecy. Harry had promised his Ginny that he would return to her. She and his most loyal friends, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna had battled Death Eaters and even, to their horror, fellow students who had joined the dark, seeing the battle taking a turn and not wanting to die. Luna Lovegood had paid with her life. Neville Longbottom had lost his left leg and the love of his life. The battle had raged in and around Hogwarts and into the village of Hogsmeade, and all the while, no one knew where Harry had been taken.

Once the Dark Lord had Harry alone on the other side of the lake, he knew the boy would die easily, or so he thought, but Harry's weapon, the one that the prophecy had spoken of all along-, the one that the Dark Lord knew not, was one that he could not be separated from-, love. From the basic elements of parental love he was sure his parents had had for him, to the love from Sirius, Dumbledore and Hagrid. Later, the love you find for yourself, your friends, and lastly, the love of his life to complete the circle of strength and determination that Voldemort, now devoid of any of these things, could never understand.

It would be a story to be told later, how Harry had finally come into his own, to go down in history books as having defeated the Dark Lord who had plunged he and the entire wizarding world into darkness and fear. Now was a time for healing. Now was a time to call the boy who lived back to them.

Harry had promised Ginny a picnic, a Muggle style picnic, and he hated to admit to himself when they spoke of planning it as a unity event for the school, that he partly agreed to the Muggle theme, because he knew the Slytherins would hate it. Some unity event that would be! In fact, the planning of this picnic, had only been turned over to Harry when he had stormed into Dumbledore's office, demanding to know why the Headmaster had sanctioned a picnic, planned originally by Mudbloods and Muggle- borns, and excluding Purebloods . Ginny had been hurt to her heart to find that the picnic would exclude her, being as she was a Pureblood Witch. Lines had been drawn not only between houses, but along blood lines as well, and for Ginny, it had opened up old wounds from her captivity in the Chamber of Secrets.

Ginny was never one to cry, but Harry had found her by the lake that cold March day, doing just that. She could sense the end of the war was near, for good or bad, and the stronger the divisions became, the less prepared for battle she knew they would be. Some of the people planning this event, had been her friends. For an intelligent girl like Ginny, it made her not so much bitter, but it made her realize what Slytherins who were not part ofThe Dark side must feel-, judged without trial.

The following DA meeting had started out with a very angry and frustrated Harry, imploring everyone to stop letting Voldemort divide them. It was still amazing to the young man how the use of that dreaded name, could make people snap to and pay attention, even when they had come in with staunchly formed plans. There were many apologies all around, leading even to hugs between any Purebloods and those who had been in on the planning of the exclusive picnic. Hermione, in her usual bossy manner, had elected Harry to see Dumbledore about changing the plans to include everyone, even Slytherins to the picnic, which would still be Muggle theme, much to Ginny's delight. She took after Arthur somewhat in being fascinated by Muggle tradition. The picnic had never taken place. The war had pushed picnics and even traditions such as Quidditch matches to the backs of everyone's mind for now, save one boy, who lay between life and death. The one boy who wanted to experience these things from a whole new perspective of peace and permission to finally be young and live as he'd never been allowed to do. He had fulfilled his destiny, to what end, no one yet knew.

All of Harry's friends had spoken to him softly, and at other times urgently, when their fears would surface until they could be stifled again. Maybe there would be no picnic or carefree life for Harry. Maybe it wasn't meant to be. Night was when Ginny would sometimes finally give in to her worry and grief. She had lost her oldest brother, and couldn't bear the thought of losing Harry too.

The oldest Weasley child, Bill, had been killed when he'd been summoned to Hogsmead to fight in the village which had been under siege at the same time as Hogwarts. It didn't help her spirits in the least that Bill Weasley would receive the Order of Merlin First Class for saving the patrons of The Hogs Head Pub from a fiery death when Lucius Malfoy had tried to set the place ablaze after having charmed all the exits sealed with an imperurbable curse. Bill had killed Lucius Malfoy with Avada Kadavara as a very last resort, but unfortunately, Lucius had fired the exact same Unforgivable Curse simultaneously at Bill. Ginny knew that had Bill somehow dodged the curse of death, he would have faced the same charges that the Creeveys now faced, but as he had died, the swamped Ministry had pardoned him posthumously, and had bestowed him with the highest award available for acts of valour. War it seemed, changed everything, and Arthur Weasley planned to mention the Creevey's case to the Judge at their trial, using Bill's death and subseqent award, as at least a way to save the young boys who had done the same crimes. A precedent had been set, and for the Creevey's sake, everyone hoped that Bill's case would influence the outcome of their trial.

It was when Ginny's head would swim with memories of Bill and Harry, that she would finally succumb to the dread that Harry would never wake. His curse scar would sometimes burn a fiery red, only to look as it always was moments later. His body would writhe and his face would cringe, but still, he did not wake.

Although afraid somewhat to be left alone with Harry for reasons she could not fathom, Ginny decided at first to give her permission to Harry, that if he needed to let go, he could. She couldn't bear the thought that he may be trapped in his memories, drowning in fear from his past horrors in nightmares that he could no longer wake from. She had witnessed these nightmares night after night every night leading up to the battle.

When Harry moaned, and clenched his entire body, gripping the sheets beneath his body in apparent agony, Ginny stifled the gasp that nearly escaped her lips. She was about to scream for Madam Pomfrey, or anybody, but when Harry's eyes opened to find just her there beside him, his eyes begged her for five moments alone. He couldn't focus his thoughts or his eyes. Ginny's own eyes, filled with tears as she whispered the only the dumb thought that would come to her. "We'll have to get you some new glasses my love." At this, Harry smiled, although even that small a gesture of being awake toward her, cost him every ounce of strength he possessed.

Ginny's legs felt like lead as she was going to get the the Matron, for she didn't want to shout out that Harry was awake for all prying ears to hear. When she stood, she was startled as she was gripped weakly by Harry.

"Harry, I'm just going to get some help," she told him gently, heaving from the weariness of relief that had washed away any of her adrenaline induced energy.

"Ginny...my Ginny...please, before I have to hear anything, anything horrible or wonderful, tell me about our picnic..."

"Harry," Ginny sobbed almost silently, alarmed that Harry had lost his mind, "we haven't had our picnic yet, but I'm holding you to it," she warned.

"I know, I know, Ginny, but before I have to tell, before I have to know...everything, please tell me about our picnic..." Harry was pleading. Ginny didn't understand at first, until she remembered Harry telling her about having to relive the events of his fourth year for Dumbledore. Retelling what had happened between he and Voldemort, would cost him so much more. Ginny now understood. Harry wanted one more day, one more fantasy, where all his friend were alive, and Hogwarts was intact, a fantasy of perfection from this side of things, where the Dark Lord was gone. He would learn the truth later, how ever awful it would be.

Ginny sat next to Harry nervously, her breath catching in her chest as she held his hand to her lips. She didn't know if she could do it. Bill and Luna were dead, and Neville had lost his leg. Professor Trelawny had died after having made a ridiculous prophecy in her delirium that Harry would win a swim suit competition. It would have been funny, had she not been dying when she said it. With a small smile playing on her lips, Ginny decided to pay tribute to the Divination Professor and honour Harry's request at the same time, now that she understood why he needed to hear this story, even if it was just a fairy tale.

Not knowing where to begin and knowing that she would have precious little time to have Harry to herself, Ginny whispered close to his ear about the picnic that never happened. He wasn't coherent enough for her to have to be careful about details as to why they would be swimming in April, so she just went with whatever came to her relieved, but unsure mind. She could hold herself together for five minutes for him. She would sob uncontrollably later, when he couldn't hear her.

"My love," she began, "Even though I'm only in sixth year and you're in seventh, doesn't give you the right to judge the girl's bathing suit competition. I've entered you in the male category, and as I'm one of three judges, I think it's safe to say, you have a pretty good chance at winning, after all, Quidditch is definitely doing you some good!" It wasn't the truth, Harry didn't look good at all at the moment, but his waking emerald eyes could not have been more welcome and beautiful as they were now to her. She had waited in anguished silence to see them again for two weeks.

Harry swam in and out of lucidity. His foggy brain could barely grasp the concept of bathing suits in April. Hey, it was April Fool's day after all. Perhaps Dumbledore had magically heated the lake for the occasion. The Headmaster had of course, done no such thing. This was supposed to be a purely Muggle picnic, meaning no magic. Harry was too groggy and concentrating too hard on holding onto whatever thread of consciousness he could manage, to worry about the details of swimming in that lake in April. He barely managed to hear Ginny's actual words. It was the sound of her voice that kept him listening and dreaming of what he wanted so much.

Ginny's voice caught in her throat, as she was giving Harry one more hour perhaps before he would force himself to evaluate his performance, to half kill himself upon hearing the name of every person who had died, blaming himself still. Ginny vowed to spend as much time as it took to absolve Harry of his guilt, but she knew he would eventually see the truth. Ginny choked back a sob as she spoke of Luna as though the dreamy girl was still alive. She would give him everyone at the picnic alive because she knew he needed the fantasy before the truth would crash upon him in a sea of self imposed guilt and doubt.

In honour of Luna, Ginny declared her the winner of the female bathing beauty competition, and of course, Harry won too. In a fantasy, he could handle that, reality would have been very different for the boy who would barely take his shirt off to catch a bit of sun. This was a good picnic, Harry decided. While everyone swam, Ginny taught him to swim, something she had promised to do for real. Looking at the pale boy who lay in her arms now, she promised herself that a real picnic would come to pass, and she would indeed teach him to swim, but for now, in the moment of perfect fantasy, Harry could swim after only a short lesson from his Ginny. Had he been even a little more conscious, Harry would have felt juvenile for asking for this ridiculous story. He needed a break. He needed to know that things such as picnics really existed, but for now, he wasn't ready to really do anything but brace himself for the tide of the aftermath of the battle, where the math is done by the historians. Five more minutes...

Ginny found herself indulging a personal fantasy as well, one more time to remember Bill alive and well, even if it wasn't real. "So my love, you finally shamed Ron into taking a turn cooking on that muggle contraption you call a barbecue. Remember Bill laughing so hard at him when he overcooked the lobsters and they flew up into the air? Bill just stared at him like he had lobsters coming out of his ears, because...he did!" It was a lame part of the story, and Ginny knew it, but Bill was alive in it, and that was all that mattered-, for five more minutes.

Ginny laughed, falsely recalling one of the half- alive lobsters clinging to Ron's earlobe, and Hermione's reluctance to use the tongs to get it off.

"Just do it, you're not gonna hurt me, Hermione! The lobster is taking my ear off!" Ron had said at the fantasy perfect picnic.

Ginny looked down at Harry's peaceful sleep. His hand had lost it's determined grip on hers, and she contemplated going for the Matron, feeling that he probably couldn't hear her ridiculous story anyway. When she stood to go fetch the Matron, Harry's grip returned in tense ferocity, so she sat back down...for five more minutes.

Ginny painted a beautiful picture in Harry's mind, of people dancing out on the grounds, eating the questionable food cooked by Ron, which the ants seem to find more appealing. She thought she'd work in a good ribbing on her brother, so she made up a story about him getting caught admiring Hermione's behind and saying, "I'd love to get her into a sack!" She described Hermione's actions following this statement from Ron as accepting and open, hoping to see Harry revive enough to question her statement, but he didn't stir. Ron and Hemione were always fighting, and Ginny's story wasn't very realistic, so she made sure to put in one of the couples famous arguments for reality's sake. Ron and Hermione had, according to Ginny, fought for the rest of the picnic because Hermione had admired Firenze by looking at one of the male swimsuit competition candidates and then at Firenze, saying, "I'd love to see him in that outfit!"

"Hermione, are you mad? Where would he put a bathing suit? He's got a horse's bum!" This indignate exclamation from Ron had been voiced loudly, causing everyone to laugh like mad at the red head, and causing Hermione to blush for an hour, which is how long it took for them to stop bickering out loud. They sulked for the rest of the picnic. Now that was believable! Ginny told a good story.

Quite a few people had gotten drunk, like at any good muggle picnic. Dean Thomas had been talking rather rudely about what he'd like to do with his girlfriend if she were willing...something to do with being doused in chocolate and folding his futon in his bedroom down, but he'd said, he'd like to cover her in chocolate futon and lay down on a nice fluffy fondue with her. When his friends, also drunk in celebration of the end of the war had corrected him, he'd replied, much to his girlfriend's dismay, "Futon, Fondue, what's the difference, either way, it'd be fun!" This of course, earned him a well deserved punch in the nose. Dean, not used to consuming alcohol in any great quantity, ended up vomiting on his poor girlfriend, officially ending any hopes of his fantasy coming true, and causing those around to exclaim in dismay, "I can't believe he ate all that!"

By the time Ginny was finished her story, all of the plans they had spoken of in reality before the war had come to the front gates of Hogwarts, had been covered, right from the Muggle style barbecue, three legged races, swimming, eating, making out and all the good things in any normal teenage life-, things this far from normal boy had ever really experienced. Ginny solemnly swore at that moment, when a small sad smile appeared on Harry's face, that she would give him for real, as soon as he was well, his five more minutes, followed by a lifetime of five more minutes.

The time had come. Madam Pomfrey had arrived with the Headmaster. The five more minutes was over for now, but Harry knew as he held Ginny's hand for dear life that he could now really live, with his Ginny, forever.


	2. I'm Sorry

chapter two of Five more minutes

"I see you're awake, Harry," Dumbledore said, awkward for the first time in front of people since the attack. The Headmaster walked with a long walking stick carved from a branch of the Whomping Willow Tree, which had been charmed not to 'whomp,' but rather to snake forward gradually to help the aged man keep his footing. The tree had been thought to have died in the attack on the grounds of Hogwarts. It had burned fiercely for twenty minutes before anyone could spare a charm to try to save it. Miraculously, the feisty tree had lived to whomp again, though now, so many branches had been trimmed without resistance from the tree itself, that it was not the formidable blight on the landscape it had once been.

Dumbledore sat lightly on the side of Harry's bed, and Harry squeezed Ginny's hand tighter for comfort as he closed his eyes to try to hold off what he knew was inevitable. It was for this reason that what Dumbledore had come to say, surprised him so much. Harry flinched involuntarily as soon as the man cleared his throat to speak, but felt his eyes open in confusion when he addressed Ginny instead

"Has Mr. Potter spoken yet?" the Headmaster asked, his voice laced with concern and something else Ginny couldn't put her finger on. He sounded unsure and so unlike himself. Ginny shifted uncomfortably, taking a quick intake of breath as her elbow, which was still tender from having been broken and dislocated, hit the side of the bed rail. She wasn't sure if she should give Harry some more time by lying about having just spoken to him for five minutes, or tell the truth and make Harry start doing what he'd feared since the moment his eyes opened to find that he was still alive...relive it all in having to tell the old man what had happened.

The truth was, Harry was very exhausted and barely coherent, but Ginny had lied enough for him over the past month. Harry had promised Snape that he would not practice Occlumency or Legilimency without him, but as Harry's hatred and mistrust of the Potion's Master, whom Dumbledore had relied upon so wholly grew, he spent every meeting of the DA doing just that. The meetings of the DA, which everyone would have thought could be out in the open now that Umbridge was gone, had become secretive again, and only those trusted thoroughly had been allowed to attend. Harry didn't know what there was to talk about. He'd done the job...the dirty job...the disgusting job that made him hate himself at this very moment. He was the murderer he knew he would have to become. Just as Ginny, ever protective of Harry, was about to politely ask the Headmaster to give Harry some more time, Harry opened his eyes back up and said in an almost whisper, "It's okay, Gin."

Ginny's eyes welled up with tears as Harry steeled himself and his foggy, barely conscious mind, to get the debriefing over with.

"My dear boy, how are you feeling? I daresay you have given us all quite a scare," Dumbledore asked quietly, as if a normally ranged voice may hurt Harry in some way.

Ginny couldn't help herself. It was all a part of what she had inherited from her mother. She began to answer for Harry as she pulled his blankets protectively around him as if to ward off the onslaught of nightmarish recollections that he would have to endure.

"He is very weak, and in my opinion should be given some time to rest and to heal before he is interrogated about what happened down by the lake...Sir...Professor Dumbledore..." she trailed off, worried about her boldness only slightly.

"Is that what you think I am here for Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore asked sadly, and Ginny faltered for a moment, not knowing whether the watery look in the old man's eyes was a by- product of his age, or if he had become teary eyed at her innocently intended accusation as to the reason for his visit.

"Well...yes...I just didn't think it was the time. I mean, Madam Pomfrey hasn't even attended to him since he awoke..." Of course, as she was saying this, the Matron was waving her wand all over Harry's wounded body, pleased with some of the findings, not so pleased with others.

"Miss Weasly, I assure you, I have no intention of questioning Mr. Potter at this time," Dumbledore replied meekly. "I am merely here to see how he is doing."

Harry had turned his head to watch the exchange between his protective girlfriend and the Headmaster. Ginny did not mean to be stand-offish but Harry couldn't help but smile ever so slightly, though it hurt his jaw to do so, at her offensive stance, her hands unknowingly, even to her, on her hips. Harry had long forgiven Dumbledore for having held back information of the prophecy, but some of the sadness that had felt like rejection from the old man whom he had to come to love through the years, remained in his fragile heart to this day. He tried to tell himself that with Voldemort gone, the mission was accomplished, but he ached every day for Sirius, who he felt could have been saved had the Headmaster trusted him to know of the prophecy sooner. Yes, there it was, not just the rejection, but the lack of trust... Damn! It still hurt, though he had tried so hard to bury it after he had mended fences with the Headmaster.

"I have merely come to visit Harry..." Dumbledore told Ginny, almost as if asking her permission to do so. Ginny's heart melted and she suddenly relaxed her posture.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Ginny almost sobbed. The big bad guy was gone, but she felt like she'd build a brick wall around Harry to protect him from anything that would ever hurt him again, even words.

"It is quite alright, Ginevra," Dumbledore said kindly, as Harry wondered if anyone was going to talk to him, except Madam Pomfrey, who had already asked him a thousand questions. Harry's stomach almost turned over when he saw that the Matron had a Quick Quote's Quill...it reminded him of the one Rita Skeeter had used when she had printed all those lies about him in his fourth year. He found himself trying to see what the bewitched quill wrote from his prone position to no avail. When Ginny somehow noticed Harry's eyes almost crossing from his nosiness into what the Matron was writing about him, she lowered the magically levitated parchment on his medical chart down to his eye level instinctively. She had become very efficient in her protection, to the point that at times, she would anger her brother Ron by telling he and Hermione to be quiet while they sat with Harry. Ron thought she sounded remarkably like Hermione when she was this bossy.

Harry's eyes scanned the parchment, though in his weary state, he could make out very little of what was written on it. Squinting from lack of glasses just made his head hurt worse, and when he closed his eyes, he inevitably fell asleep.

"Well, I guess it would be alright if you spoke with him for a short time," Ginny allowed, while the Matron smiled slightly as the petite redhead stole her exact words. Ginny felt very guilty upon seeing that Harry had fallen fast asleep before the Headmaster had even had a word with him.

"I'm sorry, Sir... It's just that...he's tired..." Ginny said in a genuinely apologetic tone.

"There is no need for apologies, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said kindly. "Please just tell him that I was here, and if he asks for me, you know where I'll be."

Ginny had a moment of panic. She wasn't sure if Harry would ask to see Dumbledore. He had been terrified and frantic about a mere meeting with the man. Maybe if she explained why the Headmaster had come, he would want to see him. Ginny hoped so, as she worried about the beloved old man as he limped slowly out of the room.

When Madam Pomfrey had finished examining Harry, Ginny once again drew the blankets protectively against his thin frame. When had he become so thin? She put the question to the Matron, wishing she had read Harry's medical chart that Madame Pomfrey now hid protectively against her robes.

"I expect that it is because while we have been able to give him potions containing his necessary daily intake of calories, vitamins and minerals, his body has not been able to metabolize them properly since...since..." She could not go on, nor was she willing to give the exhausted girl any more troubling news.

Ginny suspected that the Matron had flooed the Gryffindor Common Room, summoning Ron and Hermione to take some of the load off of Ginny. They arrived shortly after she had left for her office, elated to hear that their best friend had finally awoken.

Hermione cried her eyes out when Ginny told them about how poor Harry had begged her for a happy story to hold off the cruelty of war for a little longer. Ron's eyes had been brimming over as well, but he had dabbed them on his dressing gown sleeve, trying to be strong for Hermione and Ginny, who had now allowed herself a few tears of her own as Hermione hugged her fiercely.

Ginny told them all about the wonderful picnic story, and they sat wistfully dreaming about one day, being able to do all the things that she had told Harry about to distract his troubled mind. Ron still had an almost healed gash across his cheek that would most likely leave a scar he'd been told. He had been one of the last to be found after the battle. He had set off in one of the little boats used to transport first years over the lake to Hogwarts at the start of term each year. Luna had been with him. They had become separated from the rest of the DA as they had set out to search for Harry. All they knew at the time as they grabbed the heavy oars with grim determination on that cold blustery night, was that they heard the words from The Dark Lord...something about taking Harry where no one would be able to come to his aid...then they saw a brief glimpse of a ripple over the water and assumed, without any real knowledge or hope, that Voldemort, in his eagerness, would not have taken their best friend far.

As Luna and Ron rowed, grunting with effort as the chill in the air almost left them breathless, Luna talked about her mother. Ron felt a lump of guilt and remorse in his throat when he realized that he hadn't really been listening...to what as it turned out, were Luna's last words. When the Death Eaters caught up to their tiny vessel, walking on the water no less, Ron had almost felt his eyes rolling back into his head as he saw what followed behind them come into view...Dementors, at least four of them, bearing down upon them, already sucking the air like hounds on a scent.

Luna had stayed calm as she had spoken to Ron. She spoke as she had always done, as if nothing really affected her, as if they were merely taking a midnight ride in a boat on a pleasure cruise. Ron recalled her words with a shiver of awed wonder...

"As I've been saying before Ronald...while it is nice to have met you...all of you...you'll tell them for me won't you? I think it's time I went to see my mother. ... Since The Quibbler building was blown up by Voldemort," she had said unflinchingly, "and daddy went too...well, it will make more sense for me to start over again on the other side..." This was the one thing she had said that Ron could remember clearly as Luna had kissed him lightly on the cheek like she was merely getting off the Hogwart's Express to be gone away for the summer and she would see him again in September...It was the worst night of Ron's life.

Luna smiled more brightly than Ron had ever seen her, while his heart fell to the bottom of the boat and he had shouted for her to stop... but Luna had dived over the edge of the little dory and swum away as fast as she could, making the masked figures and Dementors alike, turn their heads to look at her. If astonishment could be shown through a hood, it would have been on this occasion. Ron could have sworn he'd heard Luna's voice say, "do it now Ron!" he couldn't even tell Hermione or Ginny what had made him slip into the icy water and dive beneath the surface that night. As he dared to look up, forcing himself to stay under the water for as long as he could, he could have sworn he'd seen a Thestral, blazing brilliantly, twenty times it's normal size, a purple aura surrounding it's entire misty being...a Patronus the likes of which Ron had never heard of.

An explosion rippled the water above and below him as he fought to stay submerged. A blast of green light that did not have the same beauty of the purple aura of the Patronus, which was Luna's farewell gift to Ron and Hogwarts, rocked the once calm water. There was a collective scream, both human and ghostlike, and an eerie calm fell upon the water once again, as an oxygen starved Ron had come to the surface, choking on the air that was filling his lungs in painful gasps mixed with water and hot ash. The boat...what remained of it, had smouldered for the last time and sunk out of sight.

Ron had desperately called Luna's name, turning a complete circle to find her. She was nowhere to be seen, but nor were the Death Eaters or Dementors. Ron shivered, remembering how a horribly charred figure in black robes that he could not distinguish between human or Dementor, brushed up against him as he fought to stay calm in the frigid water with no wand and no way to get to shore. He was too far in these cold temperatures to have survived for long. He marveled at how warm the lake was only two and a half weeks after that horrible battle...fit for swimming, in April.

The last thing Ron could recall, was the Giant Squid who lived in the lake, sweeping a massive tentacle around him and flipping the freezing boy onto it's slimy back where he clung to the creature desperately for dear life. He had wondered why the creature had been so slow moving on the return trip across the lake as he screamed incoherently that he wanted the squid to turn around and take him to Harry. The poor creature, who was not a part of this human war, had lost several of it's tentacles while hovering unknowingly under Ron and Luna's boat, hoping for a handout of food, as was custom when someone was going out on the lake for a pleasure cruise. It got instead, a burning blast from an angry Death Eater, which had burned even under the protection of the water. Ron had heard that the poor Giant Squid, perhaps the last of his kind, had sunk to the bottom of the lake and hadn't been spotted since it had deposited him gently on the shore. It was as absent from reality as the legendary Loch Ness Monster now, and Ron wondered sadly, if the Lock Ness Monster had met the same fate in perhaps some other human war.

Ron's voice cracked as he told Ginny that the article of Luna's clothing he had been found clutching, her favourite ugly green sweater, had had a massive burn mark across the chest. Luna had sacrificed herself for Ron, for Harry, and for the whole school.

Ron hadn't talked much about his experience. He didn't feel he'd done enough to protect Harry or Luna or anyone who had been hurt or killed. The only reason he would talk about it now, was because he felt that if Harry was going to have to talk about what he had gone through, then this was the least he could do...he would talk first. They had all been told that they would be debriefed about their individual battles as soon as the Ministry Of Magic had gotten to the interview phase of their investigation...if they were going to assure the wizarding world that Voldemort was really gone this time, they needed some hard proof of it.

The truth was, that Ron had killed three Death Eaters before getting into that boat, a story he would not tell now. No, this was a story that is to be told when 'the boys' are sitting around with a Butterbeer, recalling, but trying to forget the war. He knew Harry had killed...and that Harry would not be alright with that. He was not alright with it either, but he knew somehow that if Harry could talk about it with a good friend, he may just be able to get over it. Part of Ron didn't want to tell Hermione that he had killed either. It wasn't something they'd intended, but war makes choices for a person. Yes, he needed to speak to Harry alone when he was able to talk about it. He needed to tell Harry it was alright, but he needed to hear that even more.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny sat with Harry for the remainder of the night, while Ginny, knowing that Hermione and Ron had fought bravely, told them the other details of the story she had told Harry about the picnic that never happened. Ron, apparently with nerves as raw as they come, had to joke to take some tension off. Ginny looked at her usually protective older brother with wide-eyed innocent surprise when he jokingly suggested that since she had spun such a good yarn in the first place, she might as well tell Harry that he wasn't a virgin anymore too...maybe make something up about having snuck away to...

"Ron! You absolute prat!" Ginny said indignantly, but mostly because she'd considered doing just that..." Hermione punched him on the other arm at the same time, making him a human punching bag from both sides as they all had a much needed, albeit too loud, laugh.

'Hmmmmmm..." Harry mumbled, as they stopped and stared at him expectantly, hardly daring to breathe lest they miss one word from him. None came, and by the middle of the night, they felt they knew every pore in Harry's face from staring at him so intently. Every time he so much as turned his head...likely in some unimaginable nightmare, they all leaned forward, eager to see his bright green eyes shine out from behind the heavy lids on his pale face.

When Harry's eyes opened suddenly, they all gasped collectively.

"Sorry," Harry whispered, as his hand slowly reached up to touch his scar, which had been blood red and poisonous looking since he had defeated the Dark Lord.

Hermione and Ron were too stricken to respond. It was Ginny who spoke, as always.

"Sh...it's okay love, it's all over. Look who's here..." Ginny presented Ron and Hermione like they were a gift, and to Harry, they were...the greatest gifts of all.

It disturbed them all thoroughly when Harry clasped a hand to his forehead and cried out in pain before they'd even gotten a chance to talk to him.

Madam Pomfrey rushed them out, and this time, even Ginny was included in the order to leave.

When Madam Pomfrey and the Healers from St Mungos who remained to help look after the wounded were finished with Harry, they let his friends back in. Ginny stifled a yell when she saw that Harry's head was now wound in bandages across his scar and had blood still on the gauze.

"No...no, not after everything that's happened. It's not fair...you said he was going to be alright..." Ron said quietly but accusingly to Madame Pomfrey.

Ginny said nothing, but just intertwined her fingers in Harry's, which were folded across his chest, and sat down for another bedside vigil. More specialized Healers would be called tomorrow. Hermione and Ron sat with their best friend, not knowing what to say or think. It would be unfair to lose him now...now that he had a chance at a normal life.

The following morning, Harry was awake again. The Healers had been to see him and left discussing Harry's puzzling new symptoms under a Silencing Charm. Ron, Hermione and Ginny all came back into his room, startled to see him sitting up, bandages gone, and looking just a little better than the previous night. His expression was not vacant, but nor did it seem to them like he was all there. His pupils were dilated, the black pools almost obscuring the green of his eyes. Madame Pomfrey explained that he had been given a sedative.

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny cried, unable to stop from flinging herself into a careful embrace. She was crying, a wave of relief and not being able to let go taking hold of her. It had been a hellish two weeks waiting for him to wake, and now, more uncertainty.

"I...I'm sorry..." Harry stammered again, completely overwhelmed. He had only awakened for the third time since the attack and three times he'd said the same thing... "I'm sorry..."

They had no idea what on Earth Harry could possibly mean. He'd just saved the entire world from the domination of Voldemort and his evil forces, but there he was sobbing... "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..."


	3. A Different Kind of Foe

It was only now in the dawn of the following day, only the second day since Harry had awakened at all since the attack, that all of his friends could see how much it had cost him to kill Voldemort. All the years leading up to the prophecy fulfillment had made even Ron wonder how much more Harry would be able to take of the life that had been so unfairly dealt to him. Now it seemed apparent, Harry had finally reached the breaking point. His integrity and his 'saving people thing,' had made him carry on with what he had been destined to achieve. Now that it was done, there was no glass sphere or book of wisdom that stated anywhere how he was supposed to feel, or how anyone could help him now. There had been no crystal ball to tell anyone how Harry would be affected by killing the Dark Lord. It broke their hearts to see him there looking so fragile, his shoulders shaking violently despite the sedative, repeating over and over again, "I'm so sorry..."

Nothing anyone said or did seemed to help. The typical round of, "It's okay now, Harry...it wasn't your fault," never worked. Ginny's back stiffened when she realized that Harry had not reached up to hug her back, yet her shoulder was wet with his anguished tears.

Ron felt like an idiot when he digressed into talking about Quidditch in the hopes that it would help Harry come out of himself for just a minute. Harry looked into his eyes over Ginny's shoulder with a lost expression as if all the joys of the game he had loved so much even a month ago were gone now, a thing of the past, along with his childhood and his innocence. Harry found he could not express to Ron how much hope he had for he and Hermione to have a normal life now that they would no longer be standing guard over him every day like they had done for this past year. Harry knew that there was still Quidditch, there were still birds singing in the trees outside the Hospital Wing, there was a new Spring, a new beginning, right outside these walls...but for the life of him, what was left of it, he could not feel it, and they all knew it.

Hermione seemed almost in shock. They all thought desperately of something to say. Many were the times when even Harry had spoken of the parties they would have when the war was over. He had never relished in the fact that he would have to kill the Dark Lord, but he had accepted it as his duty and to rally the DA and his friends, he had often put on a brave face and spoke in a happy joking manner about how many people, when they were being shipped off to war, were given farewell send -offs of a physical nature. Ginny had simply called him a pervert and made him swear to live through the war...then they could talk about that. Even such a promise to merely talk about that subject, had made a shiver of excitement chorus through his body as she had stared at him when she had said that with a mischievous and willing glint in her eyes.

Ginny took Harry gently by his shoulders to make him look at her. She placed her lips on his with a tender kiss that it seemed he could not feel, for he gave no response. Hermione could tell and she was just about to comfort Ginny and explain that she had read in psychology texts about how Harry may be a little while until he was ready to resume normal behaviour, especially when it came to touching, because he had always shied away somewhat from that because of the Dursley's abuse. They had gotten him so far, this past almost seven years...now it seemed, they would be starting from scratch with a boy who was so much more damaged now than he even was when they had first met him.

Ron, who had spent almost a lifetime telling Ginny to go away and stop bothering he and his friends, now could not admire his younger sister more. While many girls may have fled in an insulted rage, Ginny just kept reassuring Harry that he would be okay in time. Somewhere deep down...and she fought to control it, she worried that he may not feel the same for her now that the war was over, or that he would never be whole again...one fear for herself, the other for him. She would stand by him until she saw him through, she vowed this in her heart, no matter how much it would hurt her if it turned out that he just wanted to be alone now.

For a moment Harry's hand reached up slightly toward Ginny's face and she closed her eyes to lean into the cup of his hand. Harry was acting as if none of them were real and if he reached up to touch her, she wouldn't really be there. Like the Mirror Of Erised, he could not distinguish if they were an illusion, some cruel trick of Voldemort to leave him in agony for having lived. No, Harry had not come out of this unscathed. No one had expected he would, but this was worse than they had feared.

It was too soon to know exactly what to do for Harry. They had to find out why his scar had bled like that. Voldemort was dead, even Harry knew that, but the poisonous mind games he had played on Harry all these years, taunting him with promises of a resurrection of his parents...of Sirius...oh God... the loathsome beast had even offered to bring back Sirius before he had finally given up his ghostly body and spirit. None of them knew any of this, but it festered inside Harry and all the memories Voldemort had planted in his head, were killing him. Harry had a saving people thing, and it seemed it extended to saving them from the emotional trauma of having to hear about his ordeal that night. He would not tell them. It was too horrible. They should be able to leave school, scarred but whole...as for himself, he did not know.

Harry's head lolled to the side slightly as Ginny placed the bed back down in a lying down position. Harry had said nothing, and now the sedative had made that impossible even if he had wanted to. Ginny ached for another request from Harry, even to hear a fairy tale of a happy time, or to remind him of the happy times they'd shared since becoming a couple just over a year ago, but his eyes closed and his breathing was still coming in little quiet sighs from the sobbing he'd done. It took some time before his chest stopped flinching with gasps from exhaustion of the grief and they all breathed collective sighs of relief when his breathing went back to normal and he seemed to sleep peacefully again.

Professor Snape was one of the only teachers who still remained under Madam Pomfrey's gentle care. Try as they might, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had never been able to steal a glimpse of the Potion's Master, but late at night, Ginny had sworn she'd heard him cry. She still could not help but wonder about what would make the mean and stern Wizard cry, but sometimes, when she looked at Harry's battered body, she would get angry, wondering if Snape cried for his fallen Master, or for the devastation that was all around them. Hermione had reserved judgement on the subject, but Ron's opinion of the man had never changed. He'd never trusted Snape, and probably never would.

Hermione had been brought back to the castle in Snape's arms, actually. They had ended up fighting in close proximity to one another near the gates of Hogwarts. She, for her part, now believed that Snape had been a spy for the Light, The Order Of The Phoenix, and she had been doing her part trying to convince Ron and the other members of the DA of that he was worthy of their trust and had put more on the line than perhaps anyone but Harry himself, for she had seen things that the others had not witnessed.

Snape could ill afford to blow his cover to the Dark Side, the Death Eaters. Not only would that prove to be his downfall should this turn out not to be the day the fall of the Dark Lord would take place, but it would leave The Order without inside information they would continue to need desperately. It was a classic case of 'damned if you do, damned if you don't.

On one hand, the Potion's Master greeted his fellow Death Eaters with a nod of understanding that did not go unnoticed by all of the unarmed students who had fled the outdoors after having been making their way to Care Of Magical Creatures Class with Hagrid. Unfortunately, Hagrid blamed himself for at least one of the innocent's deaths, because it had been his idea for this particular class not to bring their wands as the creatures they would be attending to, didn't like even the mere smell of the magical sticks. All but one of the second years made it safely to Hagrid's hut.

A cackle of laughter could be heard after the Death Eater who had killed the second year girl, stepped into Severus's view, but just after a courteous bow from a very pale and sick Snape to the masked villain, the air around the gates went thick with a fog which seemed to roll in from nowhere. Spells glowed with ominous after effects as panic stricken students who had been enjoying a break on the grounds and still had their wands, began to fire indiscriminately at anything that moved, while the Death Eaters seemed to enjoy the game, calling out taunts that would haunt their memories for the rest of their lives.

Snape had killed Death Eater after Death Eater in the fog, until he came to a point where the fog was beginning to lift and he was faced with a student and a Death Eater at the same time.

"Shall I, Severus my old friend, or shall I let you have the pleasure of killing one of the insolent little whelps who have plagued your intellect for all these years?" came the voice of McNair, Buckbeek's would-be executioner.

"The pleasure would be all mine..." Snape sneered, and everything the student, Colin Creevey had ever feared of the Potion Master's sadistic teaching methods, now tripled and filled him with dread.

Snape's hands shook as he trained his wand on the young Gryffindor and he mouthed the words 'run!' to the frozen- to- the- spot student. Now Snape lamented the effect he'd had on his pupils that had served him so well in the past. He knew that the Death Eater standing behind him only three feet away, expected nothing less then Avada Kadavara, and that is exactly what he got...as Snape wheeled around and hit the stunned villain squarely in the chest. Colin just stood there, likely wondering why he was not dead.

"Run, you stupid boy!" yelled Snape as Colin snapped back to reality. Hermione screamed for Snape to watch out as it became apparent that he had not performed the Killing Curse on one of his own without being seen. Nott, another one of Voldemort's most staunch defenders, strode out into the small clearing patch of fog, wand out and shouted "Immobulus!" as Snape fell to the ground, his wand rolling out of his white hand.

Oh, dear Severus, tut tut, what have we here? I really must bring you back to our Lord. No doubt he'll want to have some words with you...one in particular starting with A and ending with A, the man said, obviously thinking he was being clever offering a lame riddle.

"Petrificus Totalis!" Hermione's voice rung out shrilly as Nott fell to the ground. She quickly enervated Snape, who looked completely wild.

"Granger, did anyone else see me do it?" he demanded desperately, gripping the front of her robes like she was a man of his size.

"I...I...don't know Professor," Hermione choked out, but at that moment a strong cutting curse sliced through her back and she went limp in Snape's arms with a moan, her eyes glassed over and filled with tears, not for herself, but because she knew now that she would be of no more help. For her, the battle was over.

Snape let her fall onto the grass as gently as he could as he retrieved his wand from the ground and looked wildly about, trying to determine the direction of the slicing curse. If it was one of his fellow Death Eaters, he had to silence them, or his cover would be blown for good. The most grim thing about it was, that whoever was doing it, also did not want him dead. They wanted to present him to the Dark Lord for punishment and reward for themselves.

Snape was suddenly enshrouded in blue light and went deathly pale immediately, falling to the ground without so much as flinching as his body made contact. By this time, Colin had hidden in some nearby shrubs and lay watching in horror as the Death Eater strode out to Snape with a snort of disgust, kicking the man in the stomach. He then turned to Hermione, and this was when Colin had done something that could seal his fate to a lifetime in prison or worse... He meant it, he'd had enough. He'd worshiped Harry for years, but in his recent years, it had turned into respect and a desire to help him defeat the Dark Lord. He'd earned respect back from Harry in DA meetings, and he would not let him down.

"Avada Kadavara!" Colin had shouted that fateful night, and the Death Eater fell beside the man who was no longer his fellow. Dennis Creevey had been trying to keep up with Colin for they had promised to watch each other's back and hopefully send at least one of them back to their mother after the war. He ran into the fog, which was now closing back in as Colin tried to enervate Snape and Hermione without success. They decided to hide Snape, not knowing how bad off he was, in the bushes and return for him, as they didn't know a Levitating Charm. As Colin grabbed the man by the arm, his robes came up over his wrists, and as Colin's hand made contact with the Dark Mark, he yelled in agony. He had been burned.

The burn on Colin's hand was so fierce that is seemed to travel into his whole body and he too fell to the ground writhing. Desperate, Denis tried to enervate Hermione again, and this time, it worked, though she was not very coherent. Her back was wet and she tried to convince herself as she shivered with pain, that it was from lying in the dew soaked grass. Even in her weakened state, she conjured a stretcher for Snape and Colin and looked around in anguish, not knowing where anyone she'd started out beside in the battle was.

It wasn't long before the gates were stampeded with Centaurs, led by Bane. They were not coming to the aid of the humans, but rather, were driving the offending humans back onto Hogwarts grounds. They did not want the human war to be fought on their land. Many of them paid the ultimate price in defense of their lands.

It was a sad thing to watch a Magical Creature die. Not one of them had heard of what the Avada Kadavara Curse would do these creatures, kill them yes, of that there was no doubt, but it was even more terrible to behold. The green light did not just enshroud them as it had done with the defenseless humans it had killed, who had fallen quickly and hopefully without much pain. For the Centaurs it seemed, this death was more terrible. Bane fell and his body was surrounded by a golden rainbow shaped light and he writhed and thrashed about for a full moment before his body seemed to radiate some sort of band of death of it's own. The four nearest Death Eaters to it's body, fell writhing in agony beside it's body as it' s nervous system ceases to stop revolting against death. If there had been time, Hermione would have cried a million tears.

As more Centaurs fell, it seemed to strengthen their resolve. Not one them had fallen by the hand of student or staff, and now they focused fully on the Dark Lord's Army, yelling, "Bane!" and charging mercilessly in such great numbers that the wands could not keep up with the stampede.

None of the Centaurs would allow Firenze anywhere near them, but they did not fight him or speak to him as he allowed Hermione and Colin to ride back to the castle on his back as the stretchers carrying Snape and Denis slowly made their way back. Hermione had been swaying with blood loss, but she willed herself to stay strong as Denis had used some of his fury at having been burned by Snape to cast a Killing Curse at a Death Eater who was blocking their passage into the castle and it's relative safety. Severe pain, it seemed, could really help a person mean it when they cast the Killing Curse, and he had.

"I really think we should talk about something else," Ginny suggested to Ron and Hermione. "If Harry can hear us, it might give him nightmares." They had been filling one another in on their own personal parts of the battle.

"You're probably right," Ron agreed, as Hermione looked at him in surprise. He was not usually the sensitive type.

After having decided not to talk about the battle, it seemed there was very little else to talk about so they sat in silence once again.

None of them could even recall having dozed off, yet here it was morning. They awoke to find Harry staring sadly at them.

"Harry, you're awake..." Hermione said, stating the only obvious thing that came to mind.

"Yeah..." Harry replied hollowly, sounding like he didn't want to be.

"Are you hungry mate?" was Ron's first question as his own stomach growled in protest for having slept in much later than usual.

"Hungry...no..." Harry replied, as if eating was a totally foreign practice to him.

Ginny wanted to say something...she wanted to hear him say something, but it didn't happen. Harry just continued to look at his friends and the love of his life as if they were a picture on his bedside table. He felt empty inside and quite unsure as to why he continued to exist. His life had been so built around killing Voldemort, that now there was something missing, and little did any of them, including Harry himself, know it was the Dark Lord who had taken what Harry was missing. The Dark Lord was dead, the wizarding world could rest, but their saviour was sent back alive and broken. Voldemort would have his last say, or so it seemed.

As the friends pondered this, and were about to call for Madame Pomfrey to inform her that Harry was awake again, there was an anguished cry from the cubicle where Snape was recovering. Madame Pomfrey hurried to the Potion's Master and came out looking very grave, grabbing some floo powder and speaking into the fireplace to call Dumbledore. It was only moments before they could hear the tapping of Dumbledore's Whomping Willow Cane.

Ginny's back went rigid as Snape screamed over again, "I denounce your legacy! I will not come with you!" Shadows of the morning sun cast shadows around the curtains around Snape's bed and they could all see the man arched up in his bed in agony, fighting an invisible foe. Madame Pomfrey wished the Potions's Master were not the one inflicted, for surely he could have done something to ease this pain had it been someone else...and just then, there was someone else to cry out...

Harry's cries could not be heard this time as his eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped over in his bed as though dead. Ron started swinging punches in midair against invisible attackers as cuts and newly forming bruises started appearing all over Harry's body! Hermione and Ginny had both drawn their wands, but there was no foe to curse. Harry's mouth opened and closed several times as if he were screaming but nothing was coming out.

Some Healers from St Mungos had rushed in to Harry's cubicle to help upon hearing the screams from his friends, but seeing something like this, they called for the Aurors who had gone to breakfast. It seemed that everyone had relaxed too soon.

Remus Lupin and Tonks ran into the ward, first to Harry and then to Snape, not knowing in the slightest what to do. All the while Ginny screamed for Harry to fight, against what, she had no idea.

Dumbledore swept the curtains aside from both Snape's and Harry's cubicle and when he said, "I denounce you!" whatever it was, stopped...for now. The confusion it left hanging in the air, could be felt even by the conscious. Snape and Harry both stopped fighting desperately, and fell back into the beds.

"Harry!" Ginny sobbed, shaking him harshly despite herself. There was no response. Harry still breathed, his heart still beat, but now, she could not feel him. His physical body was there, no doubt, but Harry was gone.

Ron and Hermione grasped each other for comfort. Dumbledore was chanting something no one could understand.

"He...he's not dead is he?" Hermione wailed. "Voldemort isn't dead!"

"Yes, Miss Granger, Voldemort is dead," Dumbledore said gravely.

"Then what is this?" Ron asked as the muscles in his jaws clenched tightly. The Healers seemed to take heart that Dumbledore was here, as they now were willing to work on Harry to treat his injuries from the unknown assailant.

Remus Lupin just stood there spell shocked. "I'm a member of the bloody Order Of The Phoenix, and here I stand, unable to help him...my best friend's son...I'm so sorry James...I thought we'd won." Tonks was doing no better herself. Had she and Lupin not both seen the Dark Lord's dead body, they would be convinced that he was still alive, seeking revenge on his enemies, but it seems there were ways devised long ago by Voldemort to reach his victims from beyond the grave should he lose. He would never come back, he was gone, but he had planned a final farewell, in the unlikely event that he should lose.


End file.
